The Bruises
by YAJJ
Summary: Lancer sees him coming in with new bruises everyday. He sees how skinny the boy gets. And he knows of the sleepless nights that Danny comes home to. He knows what that means, so he decides to sit the boy down for a chat. Second chapter up! NOW it's complete!
1. Chapter 1

The Bruises

A Danny Phantom Fanfic

YAJJ

**Summary**: Lancer sees him coming in with new bruises everyday. He sees how skinny the boy gets. And he knows of the sleepless nights that Danny comes home to. And he knows what that means, and decides to sit the boy down for a chat.

**Rating: **T just to be safe, though it's probably fine at K+.

**Disclaimer**: As saddened as I am by it, I do not own anything in this story. :(

**A/N:** Recently got this idea (like, maybe two days ago?). I'm currently writing a big DP fic but I've got so many other ideas running around that I can't just focus on that. Also, 9 or 10 chapter suicide fic on the way. Anyone curious?

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"Mr. Fenton, I'd like to speak with you after school."

Lancer looked at the black-haired boy, who looked up at him tiredly, eyes spread wide with surprise. A bruise blossomed just beneath his shirt sleeve, mostly hidden. Any other teacher might not have taken notice to it, and if they did they would have blown it off as nothing, as boys being boys. But Lancer knew differently. Dash rarely was that violent with Danny, not so much that he left bruises. And Tucker wasn't violent with Danny at all.

But, few teachers knew Danny as well as Lancer knew Danny. And, over the past several years, Lancer had come to know Danny and his family well.

Danny was still surprised. He stepped to the front of the class as the rest of the students walked out of the classroom, shoving him teasingly.

Lancer lifted an eyebrow. "After school, Mr. Fenton. Run along to your next class. But don't forget."

Danny swallowed. He yanked his sleeve down a little, covering the outside of the bruise nestled there. "Okay…" he shuffled his feet and slowly left, meeting up with Sam and Tucker outside. Lancer noticed the boy's limp, leaning heavily on his right side.

With a frustrated huff, Lancer turned his questions over in his mind. It was obvious, what was wrong with Danny. The young teen was being injured night after night. He wasn't sleeping as well as he should be. For a while now, Danny would fall asleep in class more than ever. He would never complete his homework anymore—he rarely did before, but any that had been taken care of before stood no chance now. Lancer was even trying to go easy on him, because he had read so many books on this that it was a wonder that he hadn't noticed before.

His thoughts drifted from Danny to Jazz. His suspicions had never been obvious on Jasmine, though the girl did look stressed and tired often, especially when Danny started his freshman year. But on Danny, since around then, the signs were all too obvious.

Before Danny, Lancer would never have suspected the Fentons. They were good people. Jack was boisterous and child-like, Maddie was loving and strong. Well, that's what they showed. Was there another side of them that they hid away from the public? A side that young Danny saw at his place, near every night?

Lancer shuddered at the thought. He looked up at the clock when the bell rang. He was relieved that he had fifth block prep. Any other day, he would head home now and correct papers in the comfort and safety of his home. But he had to wait, because as long as Danny remembered, he would have a visitor after school.

'Perhaps I should call his class and remind him…' For most other students, Lancer would trust that they would remember, especially if they had just been told at the end of last block. But Danny Fenton was Danny Fenton, and his situation was important, so Lancer thought that he might call around the last few minutes of school. Being the school's vice principal did have its perks. He had access to all of the students' schedules and personal files. So, Lancer scribbled 'Call Lizabet' on a pad of sticky notes, removed it, and stuck it to his computer screen.

He corrected his students' papers until two, when he chose that was a good a time as any to call Lizabet and ask her to remind Danny. He dialed the number that he so easily memorized and held it patiently to his ear.

"_Hello, Lizabet Render."_

"Hello Lizabet. It's Mr. Lancer."

"_What can I do for you, Mr. Lancer?"_

"I would appreciate if you would remind a student in your class, Daniel Fenton, that I would like him to come speak with me after school. Would you mind?"

"_Not at all, Mr. Lancer. I'd be glad to. Anything else?"_

"That's all. Thank you, Lizabet." Lancer hung up the phone, looking down at him, feeling like he should have said something else. Like, that it was urgent, or that he should be quick about it. _Something_ to make sure that he stayed there. _Anything_. But he wasn't about to call Lizabet back about it, that would be embarrassing, for him, Lizabet, and Danny. He finally decided to stand outside of his classroom and watch for his young student. He had seen Danny pass his room more than once on his way to his locker once school was out.

Lancer stood outside of his school, _Great Expectations_ held tightly in his hand. His eyes barely scanned the pages, mostly keeping track to watch for his troubled student…

Yup, there he was, with Sam and Tucker on either side of him, looking concerned. Sam cooed like a mother hen, while Tucker took to looking Danny over. Danny seemed to be trying to hide away from both of them, his pale skin glowing with a heavy blush. As the trio walked past, Lancer coughed into his fist. Danny looked at him, dipped his head, and gave a small nod. _Yes_, he remembered. _Yes_, he'd gotten his call. And, even more importantly, _yes_, he'd be there. Lancer nodded in reply, dipped into his classroom, and settled at his desk. He allowed _Great Expectations_ and Pip to fill his mind, if only for a few minutes.

"…Erm… you wanted to see me…?"

Lancer closed _Great Expectations_ without looking up at the speaker. He recognized the tired, scratchy voice of his student. He finally looked up at the boy, who looked so much smaller than usual. "Yes, Mr. Fenton, I did." He said loosely. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his computer chair. "I was just wondering how your… home life has been, at the moment."

"My home life?" asked Danny, lifting an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, how are things going at Fenton Works? You are well? Getting enough to eat? Sleeping well?"

Danny's mouth was dropped open a little, and Lancer could see that his mind was spinning. Soon, though, the spinning stopped and the gears in the boy's mind sputtered to life. "what… is this about, Mr. Lancer?" he asked.

Lancer huffed at the ignorant young mind. Perhaps he should try to avoid beating around the bush; maybe straightforward would work best. "Daniel, I know that you haven't been sleeping very well. You used to fall asleep in my class, but never so deeply or for so long." He said.

"So? I'm busy. I don't have time at home." Danny denied, sitting on the desktop behind him. He dropped his backpack onto the seat.

"No time to do your homework, or eat, or even get a wink of sleep?" asked Lancer. He sat forward and folded his hands together. "Danny, what's going on is very serious. Maybe you don't understand the repercussions of your parents' actions, but trust me, I do. I've seen the bruises, Danny."

"Wait, wait, wait. My _parents'_ actions? Since when were we talking about _them_?" asked Danny, leaning forward a little.

"They, and you, are exactly what this entire conversation was going to be about. I thought it best to bring it up to you before I did to your parents, in case they got a little… short." Lancer explained evenly. He shuddered inwardly at the thought. If something happened to Danny because of _him_… he'd never forgive himself.

"In case they got _short_? Why would they get _short_?" Danny demanded, standing. Lancer noticed that he favored his right leg.

"I don't know," said the teacher, pointing to Danny's obviously injured left leg, "you tell me."

"You… think _they_ did this?" Danny clearly understood what Lancer was implying, finally.

Lancer nodded solemnly, not saying a word.

Danny laughed aloud. "You think my parents did this…" he repeated, holding a hand to his mouth.

Lancer tipped an eyebrow to the astonished boy. He lifted his chin a little, watching for the boy to bubble into tears and admit that it was the truth.

But Danny didn't. He turned to lean on the desk and stifle his giggles. He looked to his teacher once they were gone, wiping away tears of laughter. "My parents didn't do this. They _wouldn't_ do this. They—" the boy stopped, his eyes clouded darkly. He looked away from Lancer and out to the sky.

Lancer nodded in approval at the slow admittance. Something had made the boy lie, but then forced the truth out of him. That much was apparent. "Tell me, Danny. Was it Jazz?" he asked.

Danny looked away from the sky and peered out of the corner of his eye at his teacher. "Was _what_ Jazz?"

"Did it start when Jazz left? Did it start _before_ Jazz left? I remember seeing you start this… this new you, this kid who always fell asleep and such in the middle in the class, in the middle of first semester, your freshman year. Do you remember that? You weren't like that before that."

Danny sucked in his cheek. He slid back into the seat. "Since there is no _it_, no, it did not start 'when Jazz left'." He huffed and slumped. "It's just been getting harder without her."

Lancer lifted his head at the words, nodding. He leaned forward in his chair, crossing his arms on his desk firmly. "What has, Danny? Anything that you want to talk about?"

Danny growled defensively. He crossed his arms, metaphorically blocking Lancer from him. "No."

"_No_?" asked Lancer, shocked. Why didn't the boy speak up? "Danny. If it makes you feel better, nothing that you tell me here will leave this room." He even stood and meaningfully shut the door. "Nothing."

Danny bit his lip, but then looked back to the sky. He leaned forward a little and laid his head on his folded arms, watching the clouds slowly float by. He ignored his growling stomach, but Lancer couldn't.

"Why don't you eat enough?" he pressed coolly. "Do your parents not _let_ you eat enough? Do they keep you up? Is that why you always fall asleep in my class? Is that why you never finish my assignments? Daniel, if it's something like that, let me know. I can ease up on the assignments, I can—"

"Stop it!" Danny snapped. He had risen to his feet, his fists were clenched tightly. His eyes were glowing—green, amazingly enough. "My parents don't—they _love_—they couldn't—" Danny puffed his cheeks out, glaring at his teacher. Shaking, he dropped back into his chair. "Why would you _think_…" he weaved his fingers together, setting his elbows on his knees.

"The bruises," said Lancer evenly, "The ravenous hunger at lunch, the snarling stomach in the morning. The constant uncompleted assignments. The falling asleep daily in my class, from the moment the bell rings at the start to the second it rings at the end." Lancer lifted his head a little, watching the boy for movement of some kind, some kind of affirmation or declination.

Danny glared at him. "They all have an explanation, and that explanation has nothing to do with my parents." He said. But his face said something different. Uncertainty tugged at his irises, shields built up, shields that were too often put up. Lancer had spent too many years watching the people in his school when he'd been nothing more than a young adolescent, keeping his eye on people to see if they were in a good enough mood to just leave him be, to not recognize the signs behind his eyes.

Lancer drummed his fingertips on the desktop. "Then what, exactly, is this 'explanation'? I can't help but think that you're just covering up for them. Why would you do that? If they're _hurting_ you, Daniel, you needn't defend them. You can tell me. I can get you out of there as soon as you need." He said reassuringly. He stood and strode around to stand in front of the desk and look closely at Danny. He looked over the boy, searching for something that could tell him what the answer to this problem was.

"I don't _need_ you to get me out of there." Danny growled. "I need you to leave me alone."

"Why? Don't want the truth to come out?"

"There _is_ no truth! Do you want them to beat me up or something? Do you want me to get my butt kicked every day from them, or something?" Danny demanded.

"No, that's not what I want."

"Then why do you keep saying that they _do_ do it?!"

"I just want you to be safe!" Lancer snapped.

Danny winced.

Lancer looked to the side and took a deep breath, counting to ten twice, one to inhale and one to exhale. Once he'd regained his composure, he looked to his student, who was shaking still, frustrated at his teacher's actions and words. Lancer wondered if Danny was frustrated because he was guessing really wrong… or because he was guessing right, but Danny didn't want him to. "Look, Daniel," he said firmly, "I ask you one question, and I'd like the truth. I can see all of your bruises and cuts and everything. I see them, fresh ones, nearly every day. Tell me the truth, Danny, where did they come from?"

Danny looked down at the desk and clutched his hands together. "I… can't tell you…" he whispered.

"Why not? Is it putting your life in danger?"

Danny didn't answer. That was all the answer that Lancer needed.

"Are your parents putting your life in danger?"

"…No…"

Lancer really didn't like that pause. He looked over the boy suspiciously.

"They're not!" Danny yelped when he saw Lancer's scrutinizing.

"Why don't I believe you?" asked Lancer.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Danny snapped.

"Because you used to be a great student, one of my favorites when you actually pay attention to the lesson. But you changed, and I'm worried, and as your teacher I have a right to make sure that everything's alright at home."

Danny huffed. "_Yes_. Everything at home is dandy. Perfectly fine." He held up his three middle fingers almost childishly. "I swear."

Lancer's lips tipped up into a smile at the little action. "Cute." He chuckled.

Danny sighed. "There's nothing wrong. And even if there was, it's not like I could tell you. You wouldn't understand. If it makes you feel any better, if something goes wrong, I promise that I'll tell you. Alright?" the boy shivered, and Lancer could suddenly see the boy's breath. What the hell… it wasn't as if it was _cold_ in here… "O_kay_?" Danny pressed, looking anxious. The boy peered out of the window.

Lancer glanced the way the boy was looking, thinking that perhaps his potentially-violent parents were ushering him along. "…Yeah, okay. Anytime you need to talk to me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, okay. I will. Can I go?"

Lancer watched the boy shift his weight from one foot to the other—he noticed that the boy's pathetic limp wasn't as heavy anymore, and he was astounded. It had been a bad limp yesterday. Was he already healed? "Make sure that you tell me if something is wrong. Okay?" he glanced to his desk, where _Great Expectations_ was resting, with Pip and his many adventures waiting to be read. The boy _had_ said that he would tell… "You can go."

"Thank you!" Danny slipped away from the desk and practically flew to the door. Wait… practically flew? No, his feet hadn't touched the ground for much longer than they should have…

"Danny!" Lancer called as Danny swept the door open and slipped out. "Promise to tell me if something's wrong."

Danny paused and nodded. "I will." He promised. He slammed the door shut and rushed down the hallway. Lancer saw a light flash behind him as he collapsed into his desk and picked up _Great Expectations_. He frowned, thinking over the past conversation.

He still didn't know what to think. Was Danny being hurt by his own parents? His words told him 'no', but his actions told him 'yes'. He would just have to keep his eye on the youngster. If something proved wrong, he would make sure that the boy was well taken care of. If not… well, then they could just pretend that this talk had never happened.

Lancer took no notice when a blur of black and white burst forth from the school and attacked a blue and green robot ghost outside. And he definitely didn't notice the little limp when the blur hit the ground and struggled to his feet. If he _had_ noticed, he perhaps would have found the answer to his questions, because he would have seen the exact same injuries on two different people. Well, one person and one mysterious ghost-hero-boy, that is.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bruises

A Danny Phantom fanfic

YAJJ

**A/N**: The responses that I received from last chapter is the best that I've ever had, and I've never felt so heartened! And so many people were asking for a second chapter that I decided that I wasn't quite done with this story. But NOW I am! No third chapter!

_**Special thanks to**: _J, _Arette, IvyGreenCat, _Guest, _popie92, __acosta perez jose ramiro, ImAProudMudblood, jeanette9a, The Magnetic Witch, _Guest, _SailorSea, BlueStar95, _Emily, _royalfuschia, _and Identicality, and to all who favorited and followed my story or me. Thanks so much!

Extra special thanks to _SailorSea_ for helping me start this chapter. I had no clue how to start it before I read his/her review. Thanks so much!

Totally loved doing this chapter, almost more than I loved doing chapter one. This one just... worked out for me. Except for the end. That took a bit. But that's alright because it turned out well.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything in this story! I don't really own anything, actually... that's for when I actually have a life... heh...

Chapter 2

Lancer knew that he was probably the only teacher in the world who would willingly come to his workplace over the weekend just to _do stuff_. He had papers to correct anyway, so he thought that he could stay there and read and maybe do a few more things. At least being in his room, at his desk, would keep him away from the distractingly violent lull of Doomed.

He set aside _A Child Called It_, which he had promised himself that he would read again over the weekend, when he reached the next chapter. He picked up a paper and scanned it wearily. That was his promise: read one chapter of _A Child Called It_, correct one paper. Easy. Except that his students were not good at writing interesting papers, and Dave Pelzer was _so much better_…

He yawned, leaned back in his chair, and put his feet on the desk, looking up at the sky.

As per the norm in Amity Park, shafts of light streaked across the sky as ghosts flew and battled. One was the town hero, Inviso-Bill (though Lancer had heard him more than once defend himself by calling himself "Danny Phantom"). The other was a strange robot ghost that often attacked the town in search of the ghost boy.

Lancer wasn't really sure what to call this "Inviso-Bill" or "Danny Phantom", or whatever he went by. He liked to see the little guy as a hero, because Lancer had witnessed on more than one occasion a ghost attacking the school, and then the ghost boy being there to stop it. But he did recall spying the ghost boy attacking the mayor and dragging him back into city hall, and no one could forget that time that he'd gone bad and went around stealing jewelry and such. Not to mention the destruction of city and personal property. But still, it was obvious that the ghost boy tried to protect the city and its people from potentially dangerous ghost attacks.

"I don't know why you continue to struggle against me, ghost child. Your life would be so much better if you'd just become a pelt on my wall," said the robot ghost outside. All ghosts had a nasty habit of being more outspoken than necessary, and much louder than anyone wanted. Especially this one and the other robot one, they both loved speaking louder and longer than anyone liked.

It was the same with the ghost boy. "Thanks but no thanks, Skulker. I don't think that my pelt would look too good on your wall, anyway." If one of these three were speaking, you could normally hear them from forever away. That fact was, apparently, not to be ignored today.

Lancer set aside Dash Baxter's paper (F. The paper, in fact, was so bad, that Lancer would have given him a G, or better yet, a Z if it were a real grade. He was, though, glad that Dash had done his own paper rather than bullying a nerd into doing it for him) and picked up his book, muttering to himself about pathetic writing styles and very lacking research.

He was halfway through David's stealing chapter when something smacked into the window loudly. Lancer yelped and dropped his book, letting it clatter to the ground unmarked. He looked up at the window and was flabbergasted by the sight that he saw.

The ghost boy was smashed against the window by the robot ghost, Skulker. His white hair glowed against the glass, being rubbed slowly from side to side as he attempted to escape Skulker's strong grasp. He twisted and fidgeted in the ghost's hold, attempting to actually bite at its hand to force it to release him.

Had Lancer not known differently, he'd have gone forward to at least check that the boy was alright. But, given the history of Skulker the robot ghost and of the boy, all that Skulker would have done was attack him, and the ghost boy would have protected him. So he watched in amazement as the boy tried to wriggle free.

Silver booted feet lashed as the large ghost grasped the boy's neck and smashed him against the window. The boy's neck bent and curved as he tried to take a giant bite out of Skulker's gauntlets to wrench it from him. Skulker didn't look remotely frightened. In fact, he even looked amused at the hero's pathetic escapades.

"Give up, ghost child. You've finally been beaten. And I will have your pelt on my wall by morning."

The ghost child snarled at him in reply, grasping tightly to the gauntlets with his gloved hands. "I won't let that happen, Skulker! If I'm not here, who else will protect this town?"

"This town won't need your protection once the other ghosts are done with it. There will be nothing left of it to protect."

With a wrathful battle cry, the ghost boy bucked from the window and drove Skulker into the ground, turning them both invisible.

More than a little shaken, Lancer sat back and looked to his fallen book, unsure if he even wanted to continue reading it anyway. He'd read it three or four times already, anyway. But he wasn't quite ready to read the next (surely failure of a) paper yet either. It was Paulina Sanchez's, and hers never turned out well.

He stood and went to the window, anxious to see what had become of the ghost boy and his foe. No ghost boy floated above the ground, holding out that silly little Thermos of his victoriously. Nor was there a great hunter ghost holding out the dead and defeated body of the town hero.

Shakily, Lancer stumbled back and dropped into his chair, clutching the arm tightly. This was too freaky. He'd seen many ghost fights in the past several years that the ghost boy had been around—and with him, the ghosts. But he'd never seen one so close before. And certainly not one that the ghost child had been so close to _losing_ before. It appeared as if Skulker had gotten stronger a little quicker than the boy had since their last battle.

_CRRRRRSSSHHHHH!_

Lancer squealed like a dying rabbit* and leapt from his chair, hitting the dirt before you could say 'ghost'. Debris rocketed into the air to reach the ceiling and slowly settle to the ground. The ceiling fell, and no one could ignore the abrupt cry of pain from the desks.

Once the chaos settled, Lancer pulled himself from his bomb shelter beneath the computer. He lifted his hands from his head and peeked out over his desk.

A _crater_ was nestled into the ground. Desks continued to fall into it slowly as more and more debris settled on them. Each desk that fell elicited a tiny moan from the middle of the crater. When Lancer was finally brave enough to crawl to the edge of the crater, his jaw dropped.

A single, silver arm stuck out of the debris, the tip of a head of white hair showed itself. The Phantom boy!

The arm did not move, so Lancer slipped into the crater and crawled his way down toward the arm. "Great _Hound of the Baskervilles_, what happened?" he hissed to himself. He slid as a desk moved beneath him, and could not ignore the gasp that came from the center. He quickly found his center of balance and scrambled to the middle, using the agility and swiftness earned to him from his college days to make it down without harming the young hero further.

As soon as he reached the ghost boy, he started yanking at debris settled around him. He scrabbled at it, tossing whatever he could up and out of the hole. Once he finally exposed the rest of the ghost kid's shoulder and parts of his chest, he tugged on him.

The boy screamed, so Lancer dropped him and cursed again. He continued pulling off debris until the rest of the ghost boy was revealed. He gripped the boy and slowly slid himself under the kid's arm, resting him against his much stronger, physically unburdened body. He cursed the whole way up, listening to the hero's whimpers and moans as he was brought to the surface.

Lancer leaned him against the wall, and he got a good look at the boy's injuries. He'd seen them before, but not on the Phantom boy. On the Fenton boy. Only a few injuries he knew of: the massive bump feasting on the back of his head, the nasty scar that ran down his arm, and the small mark just beneath his left eye. "…Inviso-Bill?"

The boy gave a light, dry chuckle and corrected him almost silently, "D-Danny Phantom…"

"Right, Phantom." Lancer sighed. "Are you alright?"

The boy gasped and whimpered as Lancer shook him to regain his attention. He nodded slowly, but the fib was near enough impossible to believe. He clenched his teeth and opened his ectoplasmic green eyes. "L-Lancer…? You okay? Didn't hurt you?" he asked, and there was genuine worry behind his eyes, like he was more worried about the injury-free teacher than about his obviously injury-laden self.

Lancer chuckled darkly, kind of disturbed that the kid wasn't more worried about his own injuries. "Perfectly fine, Phantom." That was, of course, ignoring the scrapes that he'd gotten going down to free Phantom from his debris prison and bringing him up to lay against the wall. "You completely missed me. My classroom is a mess, now, though. Looks like I may have to teach in the hallway or auditorium from now on." He made a pathetic attempt at cracking a joke, but knew that the go was dry and hollow at best.

"S-s'rry," Phantom didn't seem to recognize sarcasm and wit in his sorry state. Two large rings appeared around his cut stomach and slowly traveled up and down him. Phantom took notice of them and released a whine of near-terror. He squeezed his eyes shut, tensed, and concentrated. The rings came back together.

Lancer didn't miss the white shirt or the blue jeans that had appeared where the rings had traversed.

His eyes fell upon yet another recognizable injury: a slice on his hip that had yet to heal. Lancer knew that it had been the cause for his student's pathetic limp. Though it had been many weeks since Lancer had seen the limp the first time, it hadn't gone away in that time. Now he saw it mirrored on Phantom's hip, where his suit was torn by debris that had caught on the way up.

Lancer's thoughts drifted from the injured Phantom to the injured Fenton. The boy's injuries had gotten no better; in fact, they'd gotten worse. Lancer had no—well, very _little_—doubt in his mind just who the source of these injuries were: The Fenton parents could be known to be violent when it was something that they cared about. Lancer had once thought that Maddie and Jack would have cared enough about Danny to not let this sort of thing happen, but maybe not.

Actually, Lancer had started to go from one side mostly to that side very biasedly. He had started reading up more on child abuse and the like. He had many sites bookmarked on his computer at home, for recognizing the signs and for helping get victims out of there. He had checked out many books from the library, as well, for just this sort of thing. In fact, this was the reason that he was reading _A Child Called It_—true or not, it was very helpful and told Lancer more and more that his first guess was very true.

A moan and whimper drew Lancer from the dark recesses of his mind and to the present boy by him. Already, Phantom was trying to pull himself up and go back to fighting Skulker, wherever that powerful ghost was. "L-let me up, Lancer…" Phantom gasped, reaching out a bare, pale hand to the air as though to grasp at nothing.

Lancer looked at the boy, gaping, and then back at his hand. When he looked back, he saw him gloved once more and attempting to close his hand around the air to pull him up. "_Crime and Punishment_, Phantom, you are not healthy enough to go back out there and fight!" he snapped, throwing a hand out as if to prove how much easier it was for him to do than Phantom.

"_Hafta_, Lancer… I needa get out there… stop Skulker…" begged Phantom quietly, using Lancer to lean up.

"_No_, Daniel!" spat Lancer. He paused when the boy winced and stopped writhing. His eyes widened when the boy blinked away from him and, when he looked back up, watery blue eyes looked at him where poison green once had. The boy didn't seem to notice, because his hair was soon blacker than night rather than whiter than snow.

In a matter of moments, Danny Fenton lay where Danny Phantom had.

Lancer nearly leapt backwards (and if he had, he probably would have tripped into the crater) with shock. He forced himself to remain calm and pretend that this was perfectly normal…

Oh, who was he kidding?! Danny _Phantom_ was Danny Fenton! His own student! And not only that, struck down and laying in a pile of debris like yesterday's trash!

Danny spasmed and gasped, attempting to sit back up even though he was barely holding onto consciousness. Lancer quickly took the less-than-subtle route and pressed down on his chest, pulling nothing short of a cry of pain from the younger. "L-let m' up…!" gasped young Danny, fidgeting a little and still releasing a cry every time that he did.

"No, Daniel! I won't! You are far too injured to go back out there and fight that ghost! What are you even doing, fighting ghosts?! Shouldn't you leave that to your parents?!" Lancer wasn't really sure if it was safe ground, bringing up Danny's parents like that, but he also didn't really care: he had a more pressing issue on hand.

"Alw's do…" gasped Danny. Finally, the boy gave up the fight and slumped, hitting his head softly on the ground.

"Danny?" Lancer asked slowly, wondering if he'd lost consciousness or just lost the will to move.

Thank god, Danny's eyes blinked open tiredly. He looked up at Lancer as though trying to discern what had happened and who he was, and then let his eyes drift closed again.

"Daniel, I need you to stay awake for me. I'll call the paramedics. Young man, you _must_ stay awake! I'll… fail you right out of the 11th grade if you don't!" Lancer physically winced at how pathetic it sounded, but it got Danny's attention.

The boy only chuckled, opening his eyes momentarily to look, rather amused, into his teacher's face. "T-too late for that, Lancer…" gasped Danny.

Even Lancer could not bite back the tiny, relieved chuckle at that; at least the boy was listening to him. Danny shifted a little, winced, and leaned on Lancer again. Lancer gladly supported the boy, holding him tight by his shoulder. "You'll be alright, Danny, you just need to stay awake for me. Stay _awake_. We'll get you looked at and all better in no time at all." He promised.

Danny waved his hand limply in Lancer's way. "Don't worry 'bout it. Already… already on it… _Phantom_ heals a lot f'ster than most people…"

Lancer sighed but nodded. "I'm still going to call the paramedics once I know that I can leave you without having to stop you from flying off."

Danny nodded despondently. "Too weak, proba'ly. Phantom won't come out unt'l I can _move_ again, I think…"

"You think? Well, I'm going to wait around for a bit to make sure." He sighed.

Danny nodded, actually looking relieved. Noticing Lancer's look, he coughed, "don't wanna move…"

Lancer managed to cock a small smirk at the young hero and nodded. "Good. Very good. Don't want you to. Wouldn't be healthy." He smiled when Danny agreed with him and leaned on him for support.

This was so much. No, too much. Way too much. First, Danny was being abused, then he's Danny Phantom, and which one is the truth? Those injuries could very easily have come from all of the ghost-fighting, hero-being that Danny did in a day. But then, why did Danny seem frightened of his own parents? What had they done? Were _both_ the truth? That was very possible. Perhaps, in trying to get away, he'd killed himself? Perhaps his parents had killed him? Perhaps his despair had allowed a ghost to overshadow him? Danny _did_ act like they were two different people…

But then again, Danny didn't seem frightened of his other half. He didn't seem worried at all that it might one day decide to completely take him over and never return him. In fact, Danny Fenton seemed more willing to go out and fight Skulker off than to lay and rest, like he should. Was there a reason for that? Lancer couldn't know; he couldn't even try to guess.

Maybe, just maybe, Danny Phantom was who Danny Fenton really was, and the submissive, shy Danny Fenton that he knew was a mask to cover up his hero work?

No, that was ridiculous. Fenton had always been shy; that was why he really only had Sam and Tucker as friends. So who _was _Phantom to him, and what affect did they have on each other? Why was Fenton really Phantom? What happened that this could have _happened_ to him?

Danny woke from his confused stupor, looking up to Lancer again. "Y' look confused…" he commented, shifting to get a better look at his teacher.

Lancer slowly shook his head, gently so as to not disturb the aching boy. "Just… how this could have happened. I'm just trying to make sense of it all."

"Good luck. Been at it f'r two years, 'n' I still d'n't get it…" Danny let out a pathetic chuckle, coughing and then wincing. He bit his lip and Lancer could see him try to hold back a cry.

"Two years?" asked Lancer curiously. He thought back, and then he knew. "Since the middle of first semester—"

"Freshman year." Danny agreed. He groaned and, after a few seconds of silently gathering his willpower, he shoved himself up into a sitting position.

"What do you think you're—"

"'M feelin' better already…" Danny gasped. He looked Lancer square in the eye. "Look, Mr. Lancer, since I know that you're thinking it…" he looked down at his hands, which rested in his lap. "My _parents_ haven't b'n doin' this. Well… I mean, they _have_, but they d'n't know. They…" He seemed to be searching for the right word, "…'re ignorant." Danny forced himself to work around the word. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands tiredly. "They wouldn't hurt me… er, Danny _Fenton_, on purpose, I _know_ that they wouldn't. All of the cuts and bruises you were talking about are from fightin' all tha ghosts. I don't get 'nuff tah eat 'cause I already have high metab'lism 'n' any food I eat gets worked off in a night's patrol 'nyway… 'n' I don't sleep 'cause ghosts always wake me up, 'n' I hafta patrol, to keep this place safe." He tried to explain solemnly. He looked up at Lancer dejectedly.

Lancer hummed to himself. Of course, what the boy said made sense. After all, the Fenton parents were loving of their children and only presented such to anyone. To think that they could hurt their own child… well, it was a relief to know that such was not the case and that Lancer was just jumping to conclusions.

Danny shifted again and moved a little away from Lancer, looking guiltily into the crater that he'd created. He looked out of the hole in the ceiling and slowly started to stand.

Lancer stood and set his hands on the boy's shoulders, pushing him down purposefully. "Don't, Daniel, you're still too injured to go out there and fight!" he commanded.

"You don' know my limits," said Danny solidly. He didn't, though, try to faze through like Lancer was certain he could do, nor did he try to bring out Phantom.

Lancer lifted his hands cautiously from Danny's shoulders. Encouraged when he didn't move, he slowly crept to his desk, hoping that the abrupt crash didn't knock out his phone lines somehow. "I'm going to call the paramedics and get you some help. Just… stay here. Your parents will probably be here soon to take care of Skulker," for just a moment, Danny actually looked terrified at the prospect, so Lancer quickly amended, "or that Red Huntress girl. Daniel, perhaps I don't know your limits, but I do know that you're still a child and needn't worry about stuff like this. Protecting a town that hates one half and a school that hates the other? It all seems… backwards."

Danny nodded to himself. "It is. But it's not about me, it's about protecting people. Like Spiderman said, 'with great power comes great responsibilities'. Right? They don't have to like me. But if they're in danger, I'll protect them. With my life if I have to."

Lancer held his phone up to his ear, watching the despondent boy curiously. There was a kind of maturity about him that most adults didn't ever get.

"_911 what's your emergency?"_

Lancer sat back once the paramedics were assuredly on their way, observing the young hero still seated on the floor. "You know…" he started, not really knowing how well this would sound to the boy, "You are a very brave man."

Danny peered up at him through his bangs, one eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Wha' do ya mean?" he asked, looking genuinely curious.

"I mean, no one else would do that. How many people in this school would put their lives on the line for people who taunt and bully them? Not very many, that's for sure. As far as I can tell, you're the only one. Thus, you are a very brave man." Lancer explained rather proudly.

"Oh, ah, er… th-thank you." Danny stammered, blushing heavily.

Lancer did not reply, only nodded at the young, recovering hero. He lifted his chin a little, observing Danny curiously. "Your parents don't know about this?" he assumed slowly.

"Of course not." Danny huffed at him. He lifted his knees and wrapped his arms around them insecurely. "If your parents were _ghost hunters_ and _you_ were _half ghost_, _and_ your ghost half is the ghost that they despise and have tried over and over again to tear you apart 'molecule by molecule!', would you tell them?" he argued.

"…No, I suppose not."

Danny and Lancer both lifted their heads when a _whirr_ sounded in the distance, and Lancer sighed in relief—the paramedics were on their way for Danny. Lancer watched out of the gaping hole in the wall for them to arrive.

Danny stumbled to his feet, hissing in pain and gripping tightly to a desk to keep his balance. He slid into the seat, gazing warily into the cavity that the desk teetered on.

Lancer testily stood by the desk and planted his hands firmly on the desktop, keeping the boy firmly planted on the floor and out of the crevice.

When the paramedics arrived, Lancer slowly—and only in pieces—explained what had happened. The paramedics laid Danny firmly on a gurney, ignoring his protests ("I feel much better, Mr. Lancer! I'll just call Mom and Dad!" and in truth he did—he looked and sounded much better, fighting with his words with much more vigor than he could have before).

The ambulance tore away toward the hospital, Lancer sitting in the back, out of the way of the paramedics as they checked Danny over for a concussion and broken bones.

Squeezing his hands tight together, Lancer looked over the boy. He puffed his cheeks out and sighed, "Look, Danny, if it'd make it any better, I can cut some of your assignments."

Danny shook his head (the paramedics nearly had a heart attack and told him to 'stop before you paralyze yourself!') and quickly told him, "No! I don't want any special treatment just because of this. I've handled it for this long and I can continue to handle it."

Lancer almost looked put out by Danny's denial, but then he nodded and crossed his legs. When they arrived at the hospital, Lancer stayed with Danny until his parents showed up and took him home, proudly ranting and raving about how they'd captured the robot ghost before Danny Phantom had gotten near it.

Danny tried not to notice when, the next school day, with class held in the auditorium, Lancer seemed to completely ignore Danny's words. He did not pass out the homework assignment that he'd had planned. But he did what he could. So when Danny confronted him about it, looking a little affronted, he only said, "special treatment? I'm not giving you special treatment. But why give extra homework to my favorite class?"

Danny walked away laughing and did not tell his friends why. Just a few days ago, Lancer had told them that "the amount of people not turning in assignments and ignoring my lessons is getting ridiculous!" he had given Danny a very pointed look, which Danny had slept right through. So he knew that couldn't be true.

Still, Danny appreciated the attempt and used the free time to catch up and raise his grade, little by little. He used it to catch up on his lacking sleep, and Lancer was relieved to note that, within the next couple of weeks, Danny was looking more and more like his old, ninth-grade, cheerful self.

Lancer never did worry about Danny and his parents again, because he knew the reason behind Danny's lack of sleep, food, and the bruises that dotted him. And especially on days after a brutal ghost attack, he went easy on Danny's class. Because if Danny could play hero for people who hated him, then Lancer could play helper for his newest favorite student.


End file.
